


good taste

by izzygone



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Addiction, Deepthroating, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Roughness, come addiction, i can't believe come addiction isn't already a tag on this site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzygone/pseuds/izzygone
Summary: Ronan brings Proko to Cabeswater.





	good taste

**Author's Note:**

> Idk why I've had the idea of a come-addicted Prokopenko stuck in my head since Dream Thieves.
> 
> Also this wasn't beta'd, per usual.

It took a little work, but eventually Ronan managed to get Prokopenko’s body to Cabeswater.

The first thing he did when he woke up was punch Ronan right in the fucking face.

Ronan thought that was okay. Maybe he deserved that. He took a few more punches then held a hand up so Proko stopped. After Proko had punched a few trees too, Ronan asked, “Feel better?”

“Where's K?” Proko replied, defiant.

“I think you know where.”

Proko kind of deflated at that. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Ronan shrugged, “Dunno. Guess I thought maybe that’s what he would have wanted.”

“You’re like him? You can dream stuff like K?”

Ronan shrugged again, “Sort of.”

“You can dream him back? Like me?”

The half-hopeful sound in Proko’s voice caused a small tightening in Ronan’s chest, “Yeah, maybe. I’m not as good at that kind of thing as he was.”

“So you’ll try?”

Ronan shook his head, “I don’t think that’d be good for any of us.”

Proko punched the tree closest to him another time then turned back to him, “You want me to suck your dick?”

Ronan took a half-step back, “That’s not why —“

Proko silenced him with a fierce look, “Don’t fucking lie to me. That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? To be your little bitch.”

“Is that what you want?”

Proko looked like he might try to punch another tree. Or Ronan. Or both. He remained silent.

Ronan gave him a hard look, and Proko stared right back in challenge. "Why’d Kavinsky bring you back, anyway? Were you always on your knees for him, or did he dream you that way?”

“Fuck you, man.” It wasn’t a confirmation or denial and there wasn’t as much vehemence there as Ronan thought Proko had intended. He turned back to the tree and started punching again wildly.

Ronan let him tire himself out for awhile, knuckles going bloody with the force of his rage. He hit the tree for a long time, each fist taking a tiny chip out of the bark. Eventually, he slowed and Ronan moved closer. Proko let out a wet sob as he turned, “He’s gone. Forever. Isn’t he?” 

Ronan nodded and put a hand on Proko’s shoulder, gently, like one might do with a lost dog or wild animal. Trying not to spook him. “Yeah, but I’m here. If you want.” 

Proko narrowed his eyes. His face was streaked with tears, “You should have let me burn with him.” Then he went right back to destroying the tree.

***

Ronan waited three days before returning to Cabeswater. When he did, he found Proko by the same tree he’d been beating to a pulp when he’d left, curled into a ball at the base, shaking.

“Hey,” Ronan said it quiet, not wanting to rile the beast, touching just the fringes of Proko’s hair and earning a violent shudder.

Proko’s upturned face was stained from more and more tears, “Please.” His voice was an urgent, throaty whisper, “ _Help me_.”

Ronan tried to smile soothingly, though even his best attempts generally came across as barbed, “What do you need, baby?”

Proko let out a gross, wet sob as Ronan’s fingers gently touched his face, pressing against the too-sensitive skin there, and Ronan tried very hard to ignore how his cock twitched at the sound, “Please, I need… I need…” He broke off, pressing his face hard into Ronan’s hands.

Ronan tried to be patient, “Tell me, baby, tell me what you need.”

Proko’s eyes were wide on him, “Please!” Something in him broke and he was back to weeping now, “I’m just so _hungry!_ ” 

Ronan kind of sighed at that, he thought maybe this was a different kind of thing, “Yeah, I can run and get us some sandwiches or something-"

“No!” Proko’s shout was loud enough to surprise both of them, and he took a few shaky breaths as if physically holding himself back, “That’s not what I need and you know it. _Please_ , I’ll do anything! Please!”

Ronan couldn’t hide another sneer. He’d been expecting something like this. Kavinsky really had been one messed up motherfucker. 

But he did have good taste. 

“Yeah, alright, get on your knees.” He said it like this was a chore, like he was doing Proko a fucking favor, but they both already knew he was rock hard in his jeans.

Proko was up before Ronan could blink, his hands fumbling with the zipper of Ronan’s expensive and tastefully pre-ripped jeans, shaking like a coke fiend days from his last hit. Ronan slapped his hands away, “Jesus fuck, let me do it.” And he did, making perhaps a bit more of a show out of it then necessary, dragging it out just for Proko’s reaction which was a low and desperate whimper. 

The second his dick was freed from its confines, Proko was on it, sucking at the tip like it was manna from heaven. And maybe for him, it tasted like it. Ronan dug his hands into Proko’s scalp and pulled him off. Proko fought him but Ronan managed to get him to tip his head up so he could meet his eyes, “If it’s not good for me, you won’t get it again, do you understand?” Proko let out another whine. Ronan slapped him, “Do you understand?” 

Finally Proko managed to nod, “ _Please_.” Ronan released him and he went back to his task, shaking with the effort to hold himself in check. He licked at the tip this time, moaning like a slut with each little taste of precome. He was so fucking _desperate_ for it, Ronan almost wanted to make it easy for him.  

Almost.

Proko started swirling his tongue around the tip, pressing just a touch too forcefully against the slit earning him another rough pull of his hair by Ronan. Then he opened his mouth, wide, forcing himself down onto Ronan’s dick so suddenly and deeply that Ronan couldn’t catch the moan that rose out of him. Proko hummed approvingly and started rocking back and forth, taking Ronan just a little deeper each time. 

Of course he didn’t have a gag reflex. Fucking Kavinsky, he really did think of everything. 

Ronan grabbed hard at Proko’s skull again, stilling him. Proko groaned, desperate, hands finding Ronan’s hips in an effort to get him to move again but Ronan just held him still until he dropped his arms again. When he did, Ronan finally started to move. Proko hollowed his cheeks and sucked and slurped and Ronan fucked his throat with wild jerks of his hips. The noises Proko made were positively obscene and Ronan prayed the trees weren’t communicating this all back to their magician.

In an effort to shut him up, Ronan rocked forward again, thrusting so far into Proko’s throat anyone but a Living Dream created for pure use as a fuck toy would have been choking on it. It was _that_ , the fact that Kavinsky had dreamt Proko up just for this, to need this to fucking _live_ , that had Ronan unloading his come into Proko’s willing throat. 

How had Kavinsky dreamed up such a beautiful, broken treasure? Ronan both hated him and thanked him for it. This broken boy was his now.

He let Proko clean him, licking up each precious drop like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And maybe it was.

After, Proko looked better. Flushed with life, stronger. Ronan wondered how often he’d need to do this and if it wouldn’t be worth it to dream up another Kavinsky just to take care of this need. The idea got him hot again — he might do that just so he could _watch_.

Ronan cleared his throat, and Proko looked up at him, defiance etched back across his face, “What?” It was an angry word, angrier than he ought to be considering he just got what he wanted, what he _needed_. 

Ronan coughed out a laugh, “Go ahead, do yourself.”

For a second, Proko looked genuinely confused, but Ronan gestured vaguely downward and Proko almost leapt to get his cock out. K hadn’t always done this — hadn’t always let him get off after. Thinking of Kavinsky made him ache again, in his lungs like he was breathing fire. He stripped his cock efficiently, staring up into Ronan’s cool eyes the whole time. He saw, now, what Kavinsky saw in him. Lynch wasn’t such a fucking enigma after all. Proko came wondering about K and Ronan — did they ever fuck? They must have, like animals, wild and vicious. _Fuck_. He came in his hand and didn’t even blink as he brought it to his lips and licked it clean.

Ronan licked his lips, watching. After a minute he stated simply, “So…” 

Proko nodded, “Yeah. I’m addicted. And I can take it anally, too.” 

 Ronan grinned back down. This wasnt going to be such a burden after all. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yep, so I'm the-real-izzygone on tumblr and I'm always down to discuss this and just about any pairing, so come find me!


End file.
